


The Beasts and the Bees

by Enfilade



Category: Transformers (IDW 2019), Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: Alcohol, Blood and Injury, Breaking and Entering, Fluff and Angst, Hospitalization, Implied/Referenced Abuse, M/M, Medicinal Drug Use, Psychopathology & Sociopathy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-30
Updated: 2020-10-28
Packaged: 2021-03-01 18:21:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 8,952
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23931484
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Enfilade/pseuds/Enfilade
Summary: Cliffjumper had no idea that Deathsaurus was going to wake up head-over-heels in love with him.
Relationships: Cliffjumper/Deathsaurus
Comments: 90
Kudos: 197





	1. Nothing Will Ever Be Fine Again

**Author's Note:**

> Spoilers for Transformers Galaxies 5 and 6.
> 
> I was intrigued by the Cliffsaurus shipping comments I saw around the Internet and decided that yes, I might enjoy a little of that. I hope it's obvious that one should not engage in a relationship with a murderous sociopath casually? This isn't intended to be a fic about abusive relationships--it's fluff about Cliffjumper suddenly finding his plate filled with an exotic dish he's not sure he can handle, but wow, it could be fun to try. But given Deathsaurus's behaviour in Galaxies 5 and 6, maybe don't try this in real life?
> 
> This version of Deathsaurus is, in my mind, what IDW1 Deathsaurus *might* have turned into if he hadn't had Leozack and Lyzack to demonstrate some appropriate social behaviour.
> 
> * Rating just changed to T because I've decided that if I want to write an 18+ part, I can make a series and give it a separate story. *

Being a hero wasn’t what it was cracked up to be. Cliffjumper understood that now. 

He had finally realized that he didn’t need the adultation of the rest of Cybertron to feel good about who he was and what he’d done. Nor did he feel the urge to live among the Probats, though he wouldn’t mind visiting their world again someday. He was happy just doing his job alongside his coworkers, Ruckus and Windsweeper, and coming home to his quiet apartment at the end of the day. 

As Cliffjumper tapped his ident code into his front door, he realized that his apartment building might have been a little less quiet than usual lately. There were gouge marks around his doorframe, as though something sharp had scratched furrows into the metal. Cliffjumper wondered if he had new neighbours. Someone moving something, and it slid off a cart and damaged the wall… 

…no, that didn’t look quite right. 

But Cliffjumper worked in sanitation, not engineering, and he wasn’t particularly interested in what had caused the damage. The door appeared to be intact and his building manager did a good job of keeping up on the maintenance. It would be fine. 

The door slid open. 

Cliffjumper stepped inside and headed to the lounge on the left side of the room, where he opened his energon storage unit and… 

Empty. 

He’d restocked it yesterday. It shouldn’t be empty. 

Cliffjumper didn’t understand why anyone would break into his apartment and steal all his food, yet leave everything else untouched. His optics swept the room. His valuables—such as they were—had not been disturbed. His furniture was just as he’d left it. His sleeping quarters… 

Cliffjumper’s gaze halted, pinned by two optics smouldering like embers in the darkness of his sleeping quarters. 

Nothing was ever going to be _fine_ again. 

# 

It was legal to commit murder in defense of one’s own life. It was also legal to commit murder in defense of another Cybertronian’s life. Cliffjumper was not sure if the letter of the law extended to murder in defense of a sapient organic being’s life, but the spirit of the law certainly did. His conscience was clear. 

Deathsaurus had intended to kill hundreds of innocents in pursuit of fuel, and Cliffjumper had done only what was necessary to stop him, and no more. 

The catch was that Deathsaurus was very big and very strong and armed with teeth and claws and wings and fire breath, and Cliffjumper was an unarmed minibot. It had taken a _lot_ to stop Deathsaurus. 

Cliffjumper had not intended to impale the ambassador on that spire, but in the end, it was perhaps the best outcome. Deathsaurus had been halted in his rampage, quickly and decisively. Cliffjumper had brought the ambassador home in a coma and delivered him to the Deltaran Medical Facility. He remembered Pharma’s words: _a shame. We’ve lost an excellent ambassador. No, he’s not technically dead, but most mechs never recover from being gored through the spark casing._

Deathsaurus would be in that coma forever, neither alive nor dead, unable to contradict Cliffjumper’s story and also unable to bring down a full murder investigation on Cliffjumper’s head. Prowl had made cursory contact with the Probats, but they’d all been more than happy to back up Cliffjumper’s version of events. And Pharma had wheeled Deathsaurus off to try _an experimental technique._

Cliffjumper had the horrible feeling that Pharma might be a little too good at his job. 

Because Deathsaurus was _here_ , in Cliffjumper’s apartment, lying on his berth in creature mode, with his wings folded against his back and his tail curled around his forelegs. 


	2. Why Do You Think

“You’re here for revenge,” Cliffjumper said, too stunned to do anything but state the obvious. 

There was really nothing he could do. There were no spires to knock Deathsaurus into. No crystals to give Cliffjumper super-strength. He didn’t carry weapons to work, and anything from work that might be used as a weapon, like a power washer or a multi tool, he’d left at work. 

He’d fight, if only to prove to himself that he wasn’t the kind of mech who’d just lie down and take it any more. That was the best he could do. 

But Deathsaurus tilted his head curiously. “Revenge? No.” 

“Don’t make fun of me.” Cliffjumper glowered. Death was one thing; ignomious death another. 

“I’m _not_.” Deathsaurus sounded more irked than angry. “I’m here to _congratulate_ you _._ ” 

Cliffjumper blinked. 

This was all very surreal, but talking was definitely preferable to dying, so Cliffjumper decided to keep the beast talking. “You _do_ know I almost killed you, right?” An instant later he kicked himself, wondering if the injury had damaged Deathsaurus’s memory banks. Perhaps Deathsaurus really didn’t remember. 

“Of course,” Deathsaurus replied. “I underestimated you _twice_. Something I’ve _never_ done with anyone else.” 

“And you’re not angry.” It wasn’t a question, because Cliffjumper still didn’t believe there was any doubt. 

“Angry? Cliffjumper, I’m _impressed_.” 

“What?” Cliffjumper said. His mind balked at the possibility of options beyond revenge. 

_Deathsaurus said my name correctly._

Why was his brain focusing on _that?_

Deathsaurus tilted his head in a predator’s query. “From the moment we started working together I was goading you. Threatening to leave you behind. “Forgetting” your supplies, or your questions, or your assignments. Messing up your name. Pushing at you constantly and all you did was mutter apologies and let me get away with it.” 

The whole situation felt surreal. “You _wanted_ me to object?” 

“I wanted to know what you were made of. When you found out the truth about the Probats’ power source, I was so pleasantly surprised.” 

“And when you murdered the foreman, I was so _unpleasantly_ surprised,” Cliffjumper retorted. That was what Deathsaurus had said he wanted, wasn’t it? A little objection? Besides, if he was going to die anyway, he should get his licks in when he could. 

Deathsaurus raised an optic ridge. “Yes, like that. I didn’t know you had it in you, at the time. But I put your head through a wall, so you put a spire through my chest.” He said it mildly, as though it were only to be expected that such consequences would occur. 

…Was that the kind of world that Deathsaurus lived in? 

“I could have killed you,” Cliffjumper said. “And you’re not angry?” 

“You could have,” Deathsaurus admitted, and then his optics sparked and his beak gaped wide and a hundred needle teeth glittered in the light when he added, “but you _didn’t_.” 

Cliffjumper stood frozen to the spot. He felt as though the ground was crumbling under his feet. There was a danger here that he’d never predicted, hadn’t even realized _existed_ , and he couldn’t even define it, let alone figure out how to escape it. 

His spark whirled madly in his chest. 

“Tell me, Cliffjumper,” Deathsaurus purred. “Why didn’t you _finish it_?” 

“Because I’m not like you,” Cliffjumper choked out. “Because I don’t believe in murder solving my problems.” 

Deathsaurus looked disappointed. Not resentful; more like saddened. “That’s all? Just some abstract theory of morality?” 

It was all too surreal for Cliffjumper to handle. “Why did you _think_ I brought you back with me?” He couldn’t say _why did you think I let you live_. The idea of extinguishing the spark of his thoroughly beaten foe was simply inconceivable. 

“I thought you’d want to see me again,” Deathsaurus said. 


	3. Red in Fang and Claw

Cliffjumper stared at Deathsaurus in abject horror, having no idea of how to begin explaining that _no,_ he’d actually been hoping to never see Deathsaurus ever again. 

A dark thought uncoiled inside him, asking if that was really true. 

_Of course it is_ , he thought furiously. _He’s a monster and he tried to kill me. Wanting to see him again doesn’t make sense._

The notion chuckled to itself. _Attraction doesn’t have to make sense._

Cliffjumper felt his faceplates heating. He hoped the heat didn’t show. 

Deathsaurus lifted his beak, scenting the air. 

A spear of shame lanced through Cliffjumper’s spark. 

Unwanted heat gathered between his thighs. 

Because the terrible truth was that Deathsaurus was darkly attractive, at least to Cliffjumper’s optics. He’d said as much to his collagues when he’d first been chosen for the mission. 

Ruckus had laughed at him and told him that there was no way an ambassador was going to want to get with a sanitation bot, but Windsweeper had been curious. He’d asked what Cliffjumper thought of his new boss, and admitted that his own tastes ran to the likes of Megatron: something about power and prestige. 

Deathsaurus had both of those. Maybe not as much power as a Senator, but certainly more freedom. _Ambassador_ was an adventurous position, as well as a highly respected one. But that wasn’t the appeal, for Cliffjumper. It wasn’t the role. It was Deathsaurus himself. 

His alt, for once, and the kibble he wore even in his bipedal form that made him stand out in any crowd. What _did_ he turn into? Nobody on Cybertron knew the word for it. They just called it a _death saurus_ . It was some creature he’d scanned on an alien world during the mission that had made him famous. 

The mission where his mentor had died. 

Cliffjumper didn’t remember the planet’s name, only that its government had changed just before the Cybertronian envoy returned. The new government was virulently anti-mechanical. They had set a trap to murder the Cybertronians, take their weaponry, and, worst of all, _gut_ them. To repurpose the corpses as some kind of _suit_ for their fleshy military personnel to wear into battle. 

Scimitar had died and his young protégé had seized command of the mission and extracted the Cybertronian envoy—gotten everyone else out alive. Along the way, he’d scanned _that_ for his alt. And he’d never changed it. 

He wore that monstrous alt mode as a badge of honour. A reminder of what he’d done. Of who he was. 

Of how far he’d go to protect Cybertronian interests. 

He’d even taken the creature’s name as his own. 

It was that boldness, Cliffjumper said to Windsweeper, that made Deathsaurus interesting. He was infamous, both respected and feared. He stood out in any crowd. He was exotic and a little dangerous. He had an _edge_ that was exciting. 

And he’d chosen _Cliffjumper_. 

Of course, back then Cliffjumper had entertained himself by imagining what traits Deathsaurus had seen in him that had gotten him hand-selected by Deathsaurus for the mission to the Probat world. 

Now Cliffjumper knew the unpleasant answer to that question. Deathsaurus had seen a Bumblebee lookalike that he thought he could manipulate into serving as a diversion and, later, a patsy. 

Except that Cliffjumper had impressed Deathsaurus by discovering the truth about the Probats’ power supply. Deathsaurus had offered to let Cliffjumper help when he burned their spires to the ground. 

Cliffjumper had refused, and stopped the vicious predator from carrying out his plan. 

Which, perversely enough, had apparently impressed Deathsaurus even more. 

And now Cliffjumper was alone in his apartment with a sociopathic monster, and while the logical part of his personality was screaming that the famous ambassador’s exotic _edge_ was in fact a bloodstained blade—or a claw—that _other_ part of his personality was perversely, horrifically, thrilled. 

Deathsaurus sniffed the air again. 

His pointed tongue licked around the edges of his beak. 

Cliffjumper’s spark sank. 

Because he could try to deny his attraction to the warlord to himself, but he didn’t think he had a hope in the Smelter of denying it to Deathsaurus. 


	4. One Weapon

All this history flashed through Cliffjumper’s mind in an instant. His brain lingered on his private confession. His admission of his own arousal. 

“You shouldn’t lie to me, Cliffjumper,” Deathsaurus purred. “I think we’re past that point, don’t you?” 

“If I wanted to see you…” and it was hard to keep his voice level “…I would have visited you at the hospital.” 

“Counterargument,” Deathsaurus said mildly. “You know a predator enjoys a good hunt. Besides, I must not have been very entertaining, all wired up with tubes and machines.” 

Cliffjumper’s curiosity got the better of him. “I’m surprised they released you.” 

Because truth be told, Deathsaurus didn’t look all that healthy. His frame was still battered, dented, scraped and scratched. His left optic shone more brightly than his right. He was missing some teeth. Cliffjumper couldn’t see his chest from the way he lay on the berth and could only imagine what his major wound looked like. 

Cliffjumper wasn’t anywhere near arrogant enough to think he could take the Ambassador in a fight, but if he were to have to try, he’d probably never have better odds. 

Deathsaurus chuckled. It broke off into a cough. “They didn’t.” 

“ _What?_ ” 

“I suppose it depends on how you look at it. They certainly didn’t take anywhere near the necessary precautions to keep me in, so, one could say they _as good as_ released me…” 

Cliffjumper was appalled. “Deathsaurus, _does your doctor know where you are_?” 

Deathsaurus’s optics narrowed but his beak gaped in what might be a draconian smile. “No.” 

“So you what, just left the hospital when nobody was looking?” 

“It was easy.” 

“Change shape and let me see what you look like.” How did Deathsaurus’s conversion sequence work again? If the spire went through his torso when he was a creature, where did that line up on his robot mode? 

_Pharma said it went through his spark casing._

Deathsaurus shook his head. “You’re getting ahead of my self repair.” He stretched out his neck, snaking his head closer to Cliffjumper with an undeniable leer on his beak. “But you want to see me, hm?” 

Cliffjumper felt another ping of interest coming from his lower frame. He ignored it. 

“You’ll have to settle for this.” Deathsaurus retracted his head, tucked up his forelegs, and rolled on Cliffjumper’s berth. It wasn’t easy. He barely fit on the berth as it was. If the berth hadn’t been up against a wall, Deathsaurus would have fallen right off. 

Deathsaurus lay with his back against the wall and his side on the berth, showing off his chest. And the big, rusted, raw scar in the middle of it. 

Cliffjumper saw spilled fuel coagulating on his bedding. 

“Are you going to come up here and keep me company?” Deathsaurus asked, his tail flicking. 

Cliffjumper blinked his optics. When he lit them again, his world remained as bizarre and nonsensical as it had been a moment ago. “You are hurt. You belong in the hospital.” 

“I’d rather be with you.” 

That was flattering and insane in equal measure. 

“That looks like a rust infection. It could kill you.” 

“Not likely. If you really never want to see me again, Cliffjumper, you’re going to have to try harder.” 

Cliffjumper’s fuel tank turned over. Was Deathsaurus really inviting him to…to kill him?! 

Cliffjumper knew already that he couldn’t do that. 

_You could call it self-defense. The doctors are going to back you up if you say Deathsaurus isn’t in his right mind._

_It_ is _self-defense._

Cliffjumper still knew he wouldn’t do it. 

_Deathsaurus is calling my bluff._

Yet there were other options besides submission or murder. Deathsaurus had tried to make him choose between those two offerings before, and he’d found another way. He could do it again. 

“I could call the hospital,” Cliffjumper said, his voice wavering. “Or the police.” 

“But _would_ you?” 

“Imagine what I could tell them.” 

Cliffjumper realized, with sudden clarity, that he did, in fact, have one weapon at his disposal. 


	5. Last Case Scenario

Chapter Five: Last Case Scenario 

Cliffjumper folded his arms. “You’re going to be in a lot of trouble if the authorities find out what really happened on Probat.” 

Deathsaurus rolled back onto his belly. “Oh? You mean they don’t already know?” 

“Have you checked your comms lately? Do you realize you’re still an ambassador?” 

Deathsaurus’s optics flashed with surprise. “No. And no.” His optics flickered, as though he was accessing his internal comms. “ _Really._ ” Deathsaurus’s neck snaked forward. “How _interesting_.” 

“So you should think carefully about what you do next.” Cliffjumper tried to keep his voice from shaking. 

_This is what Deathsaurus wants, right? For me to show him what I’m made of and stand up for myself?_

“Because if I don’t like it,” Cliffjumper continued, “everyone learns the truth about our mission together. And you know the people of Probat are going to support my side of the story.” 

Deathsaurus’s beak gaped in a grin. “According to these files, you told the police that my injury occurred as the result of an unpredicted spontaneous energon explosion. How’s that going to look, Cliffjumper, if it comes out that you lied to the police?” 

“How’s it going to look if it comes out that you committed murder, threatened Cybertronian allies, and tried to raze an inhabited city?” Cliffjumper put his hands on his hips. “I think you should think very carefully about what we both have to lose.” 

“Are you suggesting we’d both go to prison? Together, perhaps?” 

“I’m a sanitation engineer. It’s hard, dirty work. A trip to prison would probably feel like a vacation.” Cliffjumper was bluffing, but he wasn’t sure if Deathsaurus knew enough about his job, or his life, to call that bluff. “You’re an ambassador, and you’ll only stay an ambassador as long as the Senate doesn’t know what you’re really doing off world.” 

_Because that couldn’t have been the first time._

Deathsaurus’s cruelty came too easily, too naturally. His attitude wasn’t that of a mechanism suffering a psychotic break. He was _being what he was_ , out in the wider galaxy where there was little to no Senate oversight. He acted like a mechanism who could do as he pleased. Of course he could—when there was no one else to rein him in. 

“What are you going to do,” Cliffjumper asked, “if the Senate decides they better keep you closer to home? You wouldn’t need to be convicted or even charged. All you’d need is a few nasty stories going around about you. Stories that makes enough Senators feel that you belong somewhere where they can keep a closer watch on you and your _activities_. They don’t even have to be about what happened on Probat. They don’t even have to be _true_.” 

Deathsaurus’s wings snapped open. One wing reached clear across the room; the other thudded against the wall, only partially unfolded. “You _wouldn’t_.” 

“Wouldn’t I? Because the way I see it, we could both go down together.” 

The Ambassador’s optics flashed. “Is that a threat?” 

“No, it’s a last case scenario. The kind to invoke when all other options have failed. You’re an ambassador. You should know about the benefits of trying negotiation first.” 

“Negotiation,” Deathsaurus said. “ _Interesting_. Proceed.” 

“I’m not an ambassador, so bear with me while I make my position clear. Here’s what I _don’t_ want. I don’t want to get threatened, beaten up, or have my head shoved through walls. I don’t want to be belittled, misnamed, or have my opinion ignored. I don’t want to get framed, manipulated, or coerced into situations I didn’t consent to. I don’t want to associate with someone who doesn’t respect me or my right to say no.” 

Deathsaurus held his tongue, listening. 

Cliffjumper took a deep breath. “I have very clear memories of you engaging in all those behaviours, and _that_ means that you are a very poor choice for my companionship unless you make me a _very impressive_ offer.” 


	6. A Very Impressive Offer

“Your terms,” Deathsaurus said slowly. “No physical violence. No psychological manipulation. No emotional assault.” 

“Yeah, you got it,” Cliffjumper said, wondering if Deathsaurus was even capable of interacting with others and _not_ using those weapons in his arsenal. 

Deathsaurus sighed, looking miserable. “How many chances do I get?” 

“That means _how far can I push you_ , doesn’t it? You ever think about _not_ trying to push me at all?” Cliffjumper didn’t understand why the Ambassador had to _be_ like this. He’d be a very appealing courtmate if it wasn’t for his glitched-up personality. “What do you do with your friends?” 

Deathsaurus tilted his head. “What friends?” 

Cliffjumper felt a chill run down his spinal strut. 

“I’ve got _subordinates_. _Advisors_ if they’re good at their jobs and _lackeys_ if they’re not. I’ve got _colleagues_ , most of whom want my position or at least my fame. And I’ve got the Senate, who I try to avoid as much as possible.” Deathsaurus curled his tail tightly around his body. “Cliffjumper, there are _no_ situations in which I am not making the most of my cunning, my aggressiveness and my sheer brute force to keep what’s mine and take what I can. What you’re asking…I don’t think I can deliver.” 

Cliffjumper felt appalled, in an entirely different way. 

Was Deathsaurus such a monster that no one would associate with him on a social level? 

Or was he a monster _because_ he was so alone? 

How would that have even happened? Cybertronians were given mentors to teach them how to become part of society. Hadn’t his mentor taught him to make friends? Deathsaurus didn’t even have his mentor any longer. The incident that had made him famous had cost his mentor’s life. 

Then Cliffjumper had another epiphany. 

Cliffjumper reset his voxcoder. “Have you never courted anyone before?” 

Deathaurus shook his head no. 

_Primus, I’m right_ . “I…I just thought an ambassador would have no shortage of dates,” he stammered. 

Because once Deathsaurus worked through his perverse attraction to the mech who’d almost killed him, surely he would discover that there was nothing particularly appealing about Cliffjumper. Deathsaurus could walk in circles with the great and the good, but also the beautiful, the hedonistic and the powerful. There were mechs whose wealth and power gave them a great deal of freedom. And there were mechs who were willing to trade on their looks and their charms for a taste of that wealth and that power. All of them had attributes that Cliffjumper lacked. 

Deathsaurus hadn’t indulged in that? Not once? 

“Feh.” Deathsaurus looked disgusted. “Plenty of mechs _tried_.” 

“And you didn’t accept?” It was hard to believe, but Cliffjumper felt that it was true. 

“Why would I? They all _wanted_ something. Attention, favour, money, connections. Why should I give it to them?” 

“Well…” Cliffjumper didn’t know how to phrase it delicately. “They would…uh…” 

Deathsaurus glowered. “Spit it out and get on with it.” 

“Fine, I won’t bother to put it politely. They’d have put out for you.” 

Deathsaurus tilted his head quizically. Then his expression brightened. “Interface.” 

“Uh, yes.” It was so awkward just hearing the word spoken out loud. 

…was it getting hot in here? 

“Why bother?” Deathsaurus examined his claws. “I didn’t see the point.” 

“You, uh, you’re not interested in that sort of thing?” Why was that reassuring and kind of disappointing all at once? 

“I didn’t say _that_ ,” Deathsaurus replied, eyeing Cliffjumper in a way that made his spark spin wildly. “Just not with _them_. They didn’t want _me_. They wanted to _trade_. They came to me offering their frames and begging for access to the things they _really_ wanted. There was nothing _interesting_ about them. I told them all to get lost.” He looked at Cliffjumper and his optics burned a fiery ruby. “It’s been a very long time since anyone _made_ me listen. You _demanded_ my attention in a way I could not ignore.” 

“I tried to kill you,” Cliffjumper said weakly. 

“And you didn’t finish it, and so now you have my _undivided_ attention. What do you want to do with it?” 

Cliffjumper had a terrible feeling that begging, or even asking, for that attention to go away was a recipe for disaster. 

Should he be glad, or frightened, that his frame had _other_ ideas of what might be done with Deathsaurus’s interest? 


	7. Beast Tamer

Cliffjumper pushed his perverse fantasies down into a little corner of his mind and slammed the door on them. He could revisit those later, when he was thinking clearly. When Deathsaurus’s blitzkrieg of a presence wasn’t tearing his quiet little world apart. 

“I want to see if you can agree to my terms,” Cliffjumper said carefully. “You know what I don’t want. I might be forgiving if I see genuine effort on your part, but I’m not going to put up with a relationship that makes me unhappy.” 

He shouldn’t have to. He _didn’t_ have to. Just because Deathsaurus was an ambassador and he was a sanitation bot didn’t give Deathsaurus the right to mistreat him. 

Deathsaurus stiffened. “So it’s like that.” 

Cliffjumper took a deep breath and sat down on the edge of the bed. “We both have to be able to say no, or there’s no deal.” 

“We _both_.” Deathsaurus’s tail tip began to twitch. 

“Well, yeah,” Cliffjumper said. “I’m not allowed to do stuff you don’t like to you, either.” 

Deathsaurus’s head snaked forward, his beak just inches from Cliffjumper’s knee. For a moment Cliffjumper expected Deathsaurus to ask some sort of snide question, like _what if I don’t like your objections to me hurting people_. Instead, he clamped his beak shut. His head feathers swayed in a gesture Cliffjumper didn’t understand. Then Deathsaurus asked quietly, “So what happens if either of us breaks those restrictions?” 

“Then we break up.” 

“Just like that.” 

“I guess it depends on how bad it is, but yeah.” Cliffjumper shrugged. “Of course, we could always decide the relationship isn’t working out and decide to end it that way, too.” 

“Isn’t working out.” Deathsaurus said it slowly, tasting the words. 

“You might decide I’m boring after you get to know me.” 

“I don’t think so.” 

Cliffjumper gulped, but he had to say it. “Or I might decide I…want something different.” 

Deathsaurus’s optics flickered. 

_Here it comes._ Cliffjumper wondered what in the Pit he had been thinking. Of course he’d just provoked Deathsaurus. Deathsaurus really, really didn’t like anyone trying to put any kind of restrictions on his behaviour. 

But maybe it was better to find out how Deathsaurus would react now, and get it over with. 

“You won’t,” Deathsaurus said firmly. “I would never…” He paused, as though searching for words. “ _Fail_ like that.” 

Cliffjumper eyed the beast cautiously. No, he supposed Deathsaurus wasn’t used to failing at much of anything. It was part of what made him so dangerous. Cliffjumper didn’t know what was worse: standing in between Deathsaurus and what he wanted, or being around Deathsaurus after the ambassador was forced to come to terms with a situation that refused to bend to his will. 

Cliffjumper realized that, like it or not, he was going to find out. 

The wise choice, then, would be to make the best of it. 

Cliffjumper held his breath, reached out his hand, and placed it on the horn at the end of Deathsaurus’s beak. The beast grew very still under his touch. 

“It’s not about failing. Sometimes things just don’t work out. Neither of us should be trapped in a relationship that makes us unhappy.” 

Deathsaurus raised one optic ridge. “Plenty of people are.” 

_Where did_ that _come from?_

“It doesn’t mean _we_ have to be.” Cliffjumper sighed. “Is it really that strange for me to say that you aren’t stuck with me if you’re unhappy, and all I ask is that you extend the same courtesy to me?” 

“What you’re proposing is a trial run,” Deathsaurus summarized. Cliffjumper couldn’t read the Ambassador’s feelings. His tone was blunt and flat as he delivered his analysis. 

“Isn’t that what dating is?” Cliffjumper said hesitantly. Or maybe Deathsaurus really didn’t know. “It _should_ be, anyway.” 

“Dating.” Deathsaurus immediately brightened. He lifted his beak, pressing it into Cliffjumper’s palm. 

Cliffjumper looked at the monstrous creature in his berth and wondered if he’d completely lost his mind. 

Agreeing to date Deathsaurus in order to stop the Ambassador from doing something insane and horrible was _not_ something he should ever have had to do. Yet Cliffjumper wasn’t exactly feeling as though he’d been coerced. If this situation worked out and Deathsaurus actually respected his boundaries, it could end up being very, very exciting. 

And if it didn’t… 

If it didn’t, how would it be any worse than it was when Cliffjumper first came home? 

No, Cliffjumper didn’t feel as though he’d just made a devil’s bargain. 

He felt as though he’d been given an opportunity to tame the beast. 


	8. The Only Way Out Is Straight Ahead

Chapter Eight: The Only Way Out Is Straight Ahead 

Deathsaurus nuzzled Cliffjumper’s side. “Here’s to beginnings, then,” the Ambassador purred. 

Cliffjumper blinked as he suddenly found himself enveloped in a large, furled wing. It covered him like a blanket. He could feel Deathsaurus shifting his weight on the berth. Then the wing dragged him back against a firm, warm chest. 

It wasn’t that the sensation was disagreeable. It was the knowledge of a rusted hole in that chest. Cliffjumper wasn’t sure if he could really feel drying energon on his back or if it was just his imagination, but he couldn’t just…go along with whatever Deathsaurus had in mind when there was a much more urgent matter at hand. 

“Deathsaurus,” Cliffjumper panted. “You need to go back to the hospital.” 

“I just got _out_ ,” Deathsaurus said, and then he did something to Cliffjumper’s shoulder. Something with his teeth. It wasn’t a bite, exactly. It was just enough pressure to get Cliffjumper’s attention—to show off those dagger fangs—and scrape them over Cliffjumper’s hide until his spinal strut coursed with a tingling sensation. His systems whirred with a heady mix of danger, shock, and arousal. 

But Cliffjumper couldn’t take time to play games. “You’re still badly injured.” 

“I’m sure I’ll live.” Deathsaurus ran his tongue over the area he’d just scraped with his teeth. A warm, wet caress. 

Cliffjumper practically saw stars. 

It was all he could do to keep talking. “You know if I didn’t care about you, I could just shut up and enjoy that, right?” 

Deathsaurus froze. Somehow the beast’s perfect stillness felt like a more dangerous threat than any amount of growling or wing-flaring could possibly be. His gaze locked on Cliffjumper like a gunsight. 

Cliffjumper was in it now. Any apology, any retraction—anything that could be interpreted as a retreat or even a hesitation—would be the predator’s cue to attack. 

_Only way out is straight ahead._

“That wound is serious. You could be crippled for life. I’m not a doctor but I can clearly see you have a rust infection. If it overwhelms your self-repair, you’ll die.” Cliffjumper took a deep breath and summoned his courage. “I didn’t make this arrangement with you for you to drop dead of something else.” 

Deathsaurus blinked. 

Then he folded his wings tight against his frame. “If I go back to the hospital, will you come with me?” 

_Say no. Say no and have the normal night you intended to have tonight._

The problem was that the normal night would have been oh, so very boring. 

Cliffjumper didn’t want to admit to that. Instead, he went on the offensive. “If I don’t, can I trust you not to go sneaking off to…” Slag, where did Deathsaurus live? Best to be vague. “…some private little nook by yourself?” 

Deathsaurus’s jaw gaped. Cliffjumper was afraid he’d gone too far. 

The Ambassador laughed. “No, my dear Cliffjumper. No, you cannot.” He rose up on all fours and slid off the berth with sinuous grace. His tail trailed along Cliffjumper’s thigh in a way Cliffjumper swore was intentional. The draconian head curved to rest on Cliffjumper’s shoulder and whisper in his audio. “It would be best for you to supervise me _every moment_.” 

“I don’t know about every moment,” Cliffjumper protested. 

Deathsaurus shot him a glare. 

Right. He had to ease his new courtmate into a relationship with proper boundaries. 

_By Holy Primus, am I seriously dating Deathsaurus?_

“But tell you what. I’ll help you get to the hospital and stay until you’re settled, okay? Then I’ll put in for some leave time for work. It’ll take a while for them to process and approve my request, so I’ll have to go to my scheduled shifts, but I can come visit you after work. Is that all right?” 

Deathsaurus furrowed his brow. “You should take your leave time when I’m officially released from the hospital.” His smile got wide, smug. It came through even on his draconian beak. “Pharma will feel _ever so much better_ if I’m not going home to an empty condo.” 

“Uh,” Cliffjumper said, because was Deathsaurus inviting him to move into his place? Before the first date, even? 

The injury might be a bit of an extenuating circumstance, but _still_. 

“Think about it?” Deathsaurus trilled. 

Maybe he should pick his battles. “Fine. Let’s just get you back where they can give you the care you need.” 


	9. Thrilling and Dangerous

Chapter Nine: Thrilling and Dangerous 

Heads turned to stare as Cliffjumper and Deathsaurus waited outside for a ride. 

Cliffjumper supposed he couldn’t blame them. There weren’t many mechanisms with alt modes like Deathsaurus’s. Those who knew who he was were whispering to one another about seeing the elusive Ambassador. Those who didn’t were gawking at his draconian form. Some of them even noticed the trail of spilled energon leading from the doorway of Cliffjumper’s apartment building, or the puddle of fluids that pooled around Deathsaurus’s feet. 

Perhaps even a few wondered who the little red mech with Deathsaurus might be? 

Finally, a large transportation vehicle pulled to a stop in front of them. “Ride for Ambassador Deathsaurus?” 

Cliffjumper had given the dispatcher Deathsaurus’s name. It would get them faster service. 

“Here,” Cliffjumper said. 

“I’m Roller, and I’ll be your driver to…” The vehicle’s console flashed with surprise. “Oh, hey, Bumblebee! The red looks good!”

Deathsaurus’s feathers flattened as a rippling growl escaped his throat. “His name is _Cliffjumper._ ” 

“Oh! Sorry! My apologies, Cliffjumper. …did anyone ever tell you that you look a lot like Bumblebee?” 

Cliffjumper sighed as he helped Deathsaurus in while trying not to make it look like the Ambassador needed assistance. “No. Never heard that before.” 

Deathsaurus chuckled. 

Cliffjumper clambered in behind him and closed Roller’s door. “Just drive.” 

Fortunately, Roller was a quick driver. In short time, he’d pulled up in front of the emergency doors of the hospital. Cliffjumper had decided not to call for an ambulance. Deathsaurus might not like the attention. Best to be swift and subtle. 

That lasted until Cliffjumper entered the emergency room with Deathsaurus leaning against his shoulder, one big wing braced across his back. 

The admission nurse got as far as asking for a name when his optics widened and his hand slammed down on a button to the side of his console. “Ambassador Deathsaurus! The whole hospital has been searching for you! We feared you’d been abducted.” 

Deathsaurus snorted. “ _Abducted,_ really. I needed to speak to my associate here.” 

The nurse glowered at Cliffjumper. “So _you’re_ the one he was constantly asking for.” 

Deathsaurus bristled. Cliffjumper felt his spark rise and fall and rise again as he watched Deathsaurus flare his wings, as though to hide Cliffjumper from the nurse’s ire. 

_He told everyone he wanted to see me?_

_They hate me for not showing up._

_But he’s standing up for me._

“We had a _classified_ matter to discuss,” Deathsaurus said imperiously. “Not to be spoken of here.” 

A team of doctors came rushing down the hallway, Pharma among them. He quickly checked Deathsaurus over while two others helped him onto a gurney. “I trust this _urgent_ matter is settled?” Pharma said, his voice a strange mix of deference and disdain. 

“It is,” Deathsaurus said as he settled onto the bench. “And it is now safe for my associate to visit me. I trust you will provide him with a pass.” 

Moments later, Cliffjumper found himself holding a hospital pass, watching as the doctors wheeled Deathsaurus to a private room. 

_It’s that easy._

_Deathsaurus says something, and people make it happen._

Of course there’d been a time when Cliffjumper himself had been quick to obey Deathsaurus’s orders. He’d been so easy to impress the famous ambassador, the brave adventurer, the galactic traveller, the Cybertronian standard-bearer. Now he knew the truth. Deathsaurus was greedy and self-centered and ran roughshod over anyone in his way. He had a cruel sense of humour and a vicious mind. He was… 

_Exciting._

_Bold._

_Thrilling._

_Dangerous_ , Cliffjumper corrected himself, before realizing that _dangerous_ did not negate the previous three qualities on his list. 

Cliffjumper still couldn’t believe that the fiercely independent Deathsaurus would become so enamoured with _him_. 

There was also a very real possibility that Deathsaurus’s infatuation might not last. 

By the Inferno, Deathsaurus getting bored and moving on to pursue someone else might be getting off easy. What if Deathsaurus came to resent the hold that Cliffjumper had on him? In that case, being the object of Deathsaurus’s affections might well turn out to be deadly. 

_But what a way to go._

Cliffjumper realized he had no interest in trying to play it safe. 

He would rather find out just where this partnership with Deathsaurus would take him. 


	10. An Essential Part

Chapter Ten: An Essential Part 

Was this a date? 

Cliffjumper looked at his reflection in the mirror. He’d scrubbed up, just like he always did after a shift at work. Ruckus might not care if he smelled like garbage and the ducts, but Cliffjumper preferred to leave the grime from his job at work. That’s why Cliffjumper’s one indulgence was a hab with its own private wash station. It would be a lot cheaper if Cliffjumper got a hab on one of the floors with a communal wash station, but Cliffjumper hated visiting a shared bath while smelling like trash. 

He was squeaky clean now—clean enough to meet _Windsweeper’s_ standards—but somehow it didn’t seem like enough. 

Cliffjumper carefully opened a jar of wax polish. He’d bought it when he first found out Deathsaurus had asked for him to come along on the trip to Probat. He’d wanted to look professional. Respectable. 

It hadn’t made Deathsaurus respect him. 

_He does now._

_Because I almost killed him._

_That’s messed up, isn’t it? I almost murder him and he becomes infatuated with me?_

Cliffjumper dabbed a cloth into the pot and rubbed some wax on the edge of his helmet. The shine was kind of nice, really. It made him look a little different than his ordinary self. 

Deathsaurus might not even notice, but Cliffjumper decided he wanted to polish up a little. The ordinary Cliffjumper didn’t associate with ambassadors. He didn’t need to put on sparkle like a show ‘bot. Just a little bit of shine. 

Once he was done, Cliffjumper changed shape and drove to the Deltaran Medical Facility. 

# 

Deathsaurus was sitting upright in his berth in his bipedal form when Cliffjumper arrived at his room. 

“Cliffjumper,” the Ambassador said, smiling broadly as he spread his arms. “Look whose T-cog is functional again.” 

_So that’s why he showed up at my place as a beast_ . 

Not that Deathsaurus’s robot mode wasn’t also a little bit monstrous. The four optics, for one. The sharp fangs for another. And the thing on his forehead that looked like an ornamental headdress from one angle also looked like the spines of a wild animal from another. 

“I’ll bet you’re glad to be back in this form,” Cliffjumper said, mostly because it was the first small-talk sort of thing he could think of to say as he approached the berth. 

Deathsaurus shrugged. “It has its uses.” He leaned forward. “I’m sure _you_ prefer it.” 

Cliffjumper felt the back of his neck prickle with warning. He took a seat at Deathsaurus’s bedside, but he glared into Deathsaurus’s optics—both sets, as best he could—and said, “That sounds like a threat.” 

Deathsaurus blinked. All four optics. 

Cliffjumper had always suspected, and had now confirmed, that the upper set on Deathsaurus’s beast helm weren’t just for show. 

Cliffjumper wasn’t going to let him feign innocence, either. Deathsaurus liked to see how much he could get away with. Cliffjumper was going to have to teach him that the answer was _essentially nothing_ where he was concerned. 

So Cliffjumper looked Deathsaurus right in the optics, leaned forward as well, and pressed the issue. “If I disagree with your statement, you’ll sit back and I’ll look a liar, and if I agree, you’ll carry through on your aggression and say I provoked you. I’m not dumb enough to play games I can’t win. And I’m not dumb enough to date someone who tries to play them with me.” 

Deathsaurus blinked again. “But everyone prefers this shape. My alt’s hideous.” 

“Then why does saying so make you so aggressi…” Cliffjumper trailed off in mid-sentence. “ _You_ like it. And you’re ready to fight whoever doesn’t. Which is everyone.” 

Deathsaurus nodded. 

Cliffjumper sighed. “Do you ever give people a chance before you start in on the aggression? It’s like you’re looking for an excue to fight. If it’s not insults and goading with you, it’s implied threats and then pre-emptive violence.” 

“I’d rather get respect right away, thank you.” 

“Well, there’s your problem. There’s other ways to earn respect besides fear.” 

“Like what?” 

“Are you messing with me?” 

Deathsaurus rubbed his forehead and pinched the bridge of his nose. “No. And never mind. I get your respect by abiding by your rules, don’t I?” 

Cliffjumper nodded warily. 

“And we’re off topic. My alt. Hideous.” 

“I’m going to bet it’s not so bad when you tone down the threat display.” 

Deathsaurus raised an optic ridge. 

“I mean, you haven’t changed it. You could’ve scanned anything in the years since that incident, but you haven’t. You kept that creature shape. It’s got to have some things going for it.” 

“Yes,” Deathsaurus said slowly. He paused. “You really don’t mind it?” 

“Courtship means accepting your partner for who they are,” Cliffjumper said. A moment later he wondered if he was a hypocrite. He took a deep breath. “I’m betting that the mech I met on Probat isn’t the full truth of you, Deathsaurus. That aggression—that selfishness—that’s not who you really are.” 

Deathsaurus grinned, showing rather a lot of pointy teeth. “Interesting. You’re saying one can change one’s behaviour, but not one’s nature. So a partner can request a change of behaviour, but mustn’t expect to be able to alter their courtmate’s fundamental being.” 

Cliffjumper wasn’t quite sure he got all that, but he nodded. “It looks to me like your alt is an essential part of you.” 

“You have no idea,” Deathsaurus replied. 

Cliffjumper didn’t, but he hoped that someday he might find out. 


	11. A Gift in Kind

Chapter Eleven: A Gift In Kind 

Cliffjumper wasn’t that good at this _gift_ stuff. 

He knew it was customary to take a present to see someone in hospital. He’d completely blanked out on it the first time, since he’d been so anxious about visiting Deathsaurus at all. He had to do better this time. 

But what should he get? 

Somehow he didn’t think that Deathsaurus was really a _flowers_ kind of person. 

After a moment’s thought, Cliffjumper wondered if Deathsaurus was really a _surprise_ kind of person, either. _Giving_ , maybe. Probat had been one surprise after another. _Getting_ , maybe not so much. 

But Deathsaurus also seemed like a _no nonsense_ kind of person. He wouldn’t mind if Cliffjumper was a little blunt. 

Cliffjumper called the hospital and asked to be put through to Deathsaurus’s room. 

“What?” Deathsaurus’s greeting, if it could be called that, was beyond harsh. 

Cliffjumper could barely stammer out his name. 

“Oh.” Deathsaurus’s demeanour changed instantly. “Cliffjumper, are you all right? Did something come up—that I won’t be seeing you tonight?” He even sounded concerned, if a bit disappointed. 

“No…I mean, yes, I’m all right; no, nothing came up.” 

“Good.” Deathsaurus’s voice turned into a purr. “It’s nice to hear from you.” 

“I was actually calling on my break from work to ask if you wanted anything. I mean, if there was something I could get you,” Cliffjumper added hastily. What Deathsaurus might be wanting might not be appropriate for a hospital. Thinking of it made Cliffjumper shiver, and he wasn’t sure if it was nervousness or excitement. 

“Thank Primus.” Deathsaurus’s voice came out in a rush. “Can you bring me some food?” 

“What, like fancy candy?” Cliffjumper didn’t know much about gourmet fuel. It was so expensive, and his discretionary funds were limited. 

“I mean _food_. I don’t care what it is. Fuel—as nourishing and as much as you can get.” 

Cliffjumper blinked. That was _much_ more blunt that he’d expected. “Surely they’re fueling you in the hospital.” 

“It’s not _enough_.” Deathsaurus sounded agitated. “Cliffjumper, if you’re worried about giving away your own fuel reserves, don’t be. I can give you my ration coupons. I can give you _credits_.” 

Was Deathsaurus talking about black market fuel? 

“Just _please_.” Deathsaurus, mighty Ambassador that he was, sounded on the verge of begging. “Bring me something to _eat_.” 

“All right,” Cliffjumper said. “I’ll see what I can do.” 

“I would be in…in your debt.” It didn’t sound threatening at all. Cliffjumper might almost imagine that Deathsaurus was nervous, if someone like Deathsaurus _could_ be nervous. 

Another voice cut into Cliffjumper’s thoughts. Ruckus. “Cliffjumper! Windsweeper wanted us back at work two breems ago!” 

“I’ve got to go,” Cliffjumper said hastily. “But I’ll see you tonight. With fuel.” 

“I’m looking forward to it,” Deathsaurus purred. 

# 

Cliffjumper had spent tomorrow’s ration coupons on a selection of energon blends for Deathsaurus. He had a few old cubes lying around his hab, leftovers from previous days, which might be a bit stale but would at least keep him fueled tomorrow. He didn’t dare spend any more than that or he wouldn’t have anything to eat himself. He wasn’t sure if Deathsaurus would make good on his promise to pay him back, and even if he did, Cliffjumper wasn’t sure how _legal_ such payments might be. Surely Deathsaurus’s current fuel rations were being given to the hospital on his behalf. 

Besides. This was a _gift_. 

Deathsaurus’s optics sparked when Cliffjumper walked into his room. Cliffjumper wasn’t sure if the Ambassador was happier to see Cliffjumper, or the armload of energon cubes that he carried. 

“So good to see you,” Deathsaurus said, and then his gaze dropped to the cubes. “Do you mind?” 

Cliffjumper wasn’t sure what to think of this. He felt as though Deathsaurus had been using him to get fuel. But earlier that morning, he had been worrying about what gift to get. At least this gift was clearly appreciated. 

“Fuel is for eating,” Cliffjumper replied. 

Deathsaurus seized a cube and drained it dry with astonishing speed. He immediately went for another and gulped it down too. 

Cliffjumper watched as Deathsaurus’s wings relaxed and his optics squinted. He sighed, a sound of pure relief. He took a third cube and sipped it much more slowly. 

“You liked that, huh,” Cliffjumper said. 

“You have no idea.” Deathsaurus was strangely quiet. “There’s not _nearly_ enough to eat in here…” 

Another voice cut in from the doorway. “It’s that frame of yours.” 

Cliffjumper turned to see Pharma leaning against the doorframe. 

“I don’t want to hear this,” Deathsaurus said coldly. 

Pharma acted as though he wasn’t listening. “You could scan a new alt mode. Be a jet. Keep the wings. Something that wouldn’t burn fuel at such a ridiculous rate.” His optics dropped to the cubes in Cliffjumper’s arms. “Those had better be legal.” 

“They are,” Cliffjumper said, and he was surprised at the ice in his voice. 

“Don’t you have some surgeries to perform?” Deathsaurus growled. 

“Have fun feeding the Ambassador,” Pharma said. “It’s certainly none of my concern.” 

Deathsaurus sighed again. This time it wasn’t with contentment. He sounded very tired. 

“You, uh…” Cliffjumper felt anxious, but he needed to know. “You want to tell me what all that was about?” 

“It’s what he said. My alt contributes to an immense fuel burn. The rations our government issues will keep me alive—barely—but they don’t keep me comfortable.” 

Cliffjumper’s optics grew huge. 

He’d thought Deathsaurus was _greedy_. Bingeing on fuel out of hedonistic pleasure. Perhaps selling fuel on the black market, or trading it for favours. 

Cliffjumper had never once imagined that Deathsaurus might be on the edge of starvation. 

It didn’t excuse what he had done on Probat, but it _explained_ it, along with Deathsaurus’s surly attitude. 

Cliffjumper looked at Deathsaurus’s animal helm and wondered why the Ambassador was so hell-bent on keeping that creature alt when all it seemed to do was bring him pain. 


	12. Confined to Quarters

Chapter Twelve: Confined to Quarters 

Deathsaurus was going to be released from the hospital today, and Cliffjumper wasn’t sure how he felt about that. 

These past few weeks had been…kind of nice, really. Cliffjumper went to work, then cleaned up and put on a little wax, and then he went to the Deltaran Medical Facility to spend an hour or two with Deathsaurus. Usually he picked up extra food along the way. 

Though every Cybertronian had a limited number of ration tickets, Deathsaurus was very generous with replacing all the tickets Cliffjumper spent on snacks. Cliffjumper didn’t want to ask why Deathsaurus had seemingly endless ration tickets. He wanted to believe Deathsaurus had still been issued his regular meals during his long absences from Cybertron. That might be a little morally questionable, but it wasn’t as bad as imagining that Deathsaurus bought tickets on the black market—or targeted smaller, weaker mechs for theirs. Surely not. An ambassador couldn’t go around bullying people in public. 

And if he wanted to keep Cliffjumper’s company, he’d have to stop doing it in private, too. 

During Cliffjumper’s visits, Deathsaurus had been almost polite. He didn’t talk m **u** ch. He preferred to ask Cliffjumper questions about his life and listen to the answers. Cliffjumper was a little surprised. Deathsaurus had so many thrilling adventures—he’d heard a number of them second or third hand, both before and since the Probat trip—but the Ambassador had no interest in boasting to Cliffjumper. 

Deathsaurus seemed happy to listen to whatever Cliffjumper had to say. Cliffjumper thought his stories must surely be boring next to Deathsaurus’s exciting life. Deathsaurus dimmed his optics and purred anyway, as though he liked the sound of Cliffjumper’s voice, no matter what Cliffjumper was saying. Cliffjumper saw the nurses smiling at the two of them out of the corners of his optics. He could only imagine what rumours were going around about him and the Ambassador. 

It didn’t help when Deathsaurus wrapped his tail around Cliffjumper’s leg, or covered Cliffjumper’s hand with his paw. But that remained as far as Deathsaurus went. 

Cliffjumper just wasn’t sure how his new relationship would work out once Deathsaurus was released. When the nurses and doctors were no longer acting as chaperones—what would happen then? 

Cliffjumper could think of a number of exiciting ideas. 

He could also think of a number of terrifying ideas. 

In the hospital, Deathsaurus was constrained. Cliffjumper didn’t need to worry about being stalked at work or harrassed in his own home. He could leave whenever he’d had enough, and Deathsaurus had to stay put. 

The situation would be reversed in Deathsaurus’s home. Deathsaurus wasn’t trapped there. But Cliffjumper might be. 

What if Deathsaurus didn’t want to let him leave? 

Cliffjumper took a deep breath. 

_This is why you delayed your leave from work. If you miss a shift, people will notice. They’ll come looking for you. Make Deathsaurus let you out._

He’d really done everything he could. 

Focusing his resolve, Cliffjumper walked through the doors of the Deltaran Medical Facility and took the now familiar route to Deathsaurus’s private suite. 

Deathsaurus wasn’t alone in his room. Cliffjumper heard other voices and hesitated outside the door. 

“…still not fully recovered,” said a stern voice. Cliffjumper recognized the speaker. Flatline. “I don’t want you straining yourself. You’ll be expected to return for regular checkups for the next several weeks.” 

“Understood,” Deathsaurus replied smoothly. 

“Have you arranged for help?” asked someone else, a mech with a slight Vosian accent. 

“Why, yes.” Deathsaurus sniffed the air with an audible series of inhalations. “I believe he’ll be here shortly.” 

_He can scent me_ . Cliffjumper wasn’t even surprised any more. 

“Hello,” Cliffjumper said as he entered the room. 

Pharma folded his arms and looked down his nose at Cliffjumper. “He seems kind of scrawny.” 

“He’s stronger than he looks,” Deathsaurus countered. 

Cliffjumper almost choked. There was no way he could tell Pharma—or anyone else—that he was the reason Deathsaurus had gotten skewered. 

“You’d better keep this one in line,” Flatline teased, shaking his finger at Cliffjumper. His optics sparkled. Flatline clearly had no clue about the arrangement between Cliffjumper and Deathsaurus, or the fact that Cliffjumper actually _had_ made plans to keep Deathsaurus on his best behaviour. 

Deathsaurus just grinned smugly and said nothing. 

“Give him the numbers,” Pharma said to Deathsaurus. He turned to Cliffjumper. “I’m discharging the Ambassador _with reservations._ It’s your job to make sure his needs are met and to stop him from overexerting himself. So that it’s clear to both of you…” Pharma’s optics travelled between Cliffjumper and Deathsaurus. “Ambassador Deathsaurus is to spend his time inside his condo, resting, until further notice.” 

Flatline added, “If you two need anything, get it delivered. Cliffjumper, you should mimimize your time spent running errands for the Ambassador. He needs you at home keeping an optic on him.” 

_Even the doctors want me staying at Deathsaurus’s side._

Deathsaurus did not argue about being confined to quarters. His fanged grin got even bigger. 

Even hungrier. 


End file.
